


Preparations

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Series: Kitchen Ficlets [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-05
Updated: 2008-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet set in the kitchen.  New Zealand era.  Could be read as pre or post slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preparations

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended as part of a ficlet series that I may or may not have lost the thread of, but I'll post it and the other one I wrote and see if I can get back on the train.

Viggo was standing in his kitchen in a black tuxedo, traditional except that his shirt was also black and he wasn't wearing shoes. His hair was long and tucked behind his ears; he was tossing a cast-iron skillet full of caraway seeds and clarified butter with his right hand. Dom tilted his head to the side and stood, transfixed, in the doorway.

"You forgot about the party?" he asked softly.

Viggo smiled and shook his head, not looking away from his creation. "I got all dressed up and then decided, really, I don't want to go."

Dom nodded, his expression serious, and took a couple of steps forward. "Fair enough."

"Aren't you going?" Viggo asked, allowing Dom a slow sideways glance, fading into a more direct look that pierced Dom on the spot and made him uncomfortable enough to look away, to the pan. The seeds were toasting up nicely, and he reached out without prompting to hand Viggo the open bottle of Chenin Blanc for deglazing the pan.

"Don't know that I feel like it either," Dom said, and though he had just decided in the past fifteen seconds, it felt right. He removed his shoes and lifted a cutting board from its hook by the refrigerator. "Prep the chicken?"

"Yes please."

"Is that ghee?" Dom asked as he rummaged around in the fridge for the butter. He found a stick sitting, perfectly balanced, perpendicular between two sweet potatoes, and bit his lip to mask a grin.

"Yeah."

"Interesting."

Viggo smiled. "How long has it been since you were a sou chef?"

Dom smiled in return, his own expression more private, hidden between the celery ribs and the jar of ginger preserves on the middle shelf. He felt inordinately pleased that Viggo remembered that detail. "Years. Think I've still got it?"

Viggo dropped a bowl full of chopped scallions into the pan with some red bell pepper and nodded, his smile teasing now, a bit wider, though his eyes didn't leave what he was doing. "Yeah," he agreed, not watching as Dom skinned the chicken breasts with expert flicks of his knife. "I know you do."

Dom grinned and reached for the cornmeal.


End file.
